


It's Not Impossible

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Injury, Medical Procedures, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, hints of ginaka, hints of kougino, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-16 01:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5808157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years ago Ginoza died. But now, he's on Kougami's doorstep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long period of nothing happening here. I'm hoping to get back into the swing of writing (it's kind of working, as people on tumblr might be able to tell) and I really want to update a bunch of stuff and also work on some new longer fics. Anyway this is a fic war fic so it's...sad. Enjoy!

At first Kougami thought he was asleep. 

At first, he thought this was an exhausted dream caused by hours upon hours of working relentlessly without rest. Because work was all he could do. It was the only thing he knew how to do anymore. 

Someone pounded on his door at three in the morning. He got out of bed, got his gun, held it behind his back with one hand while with the other he opened the door. 

A man stood there, soaked to the bone. Thin and wet and shaking, one arm wrapped around himself. Pale, like a ghost. 

He was a ghost. Because he looked up and Kougami saw hollow, bruised eyes that were familiar to him, even though now they were sunken. The man’s mouth moved, but he couldn’t force sound out. 

Ginoza had been dead for years. 

Kougami never had this dream before. 

He’d had many other dreams. Dreams imagining Ginoza’s death in various ways, imagining Akane coming to him telling him that they didn't find a body. Never a whole body, just pieces.

So Kougami dreamed of Ginoza being torn apart, screaming for help. Screaming for Kougami to save him. And Kougami could only watch. 

“K-k-kou,” the ghost rasped. 

Kougami wanted to scream. 

Ginoza lurched forward, suddenly, and Kougami caught him. He felt real, solid. Freezing. He dragged Ginoza inside, shut the door behind him. If this was a dream, it was too vivid. Part of him was starting to hope that it wasn’t. 

He set Ginoza on the couch, amidst case files that he’d never put away. Ginoza shook violently. 

“I need to take your coat off,” Kougami said, swallowing. “Otherwise you’ll freeze.” 

Ginoza jerked his head. It might’ve been a nod. 

Kougami pulled the coat off. Ginoza wore only a thin shirt and loose pants underneath. But Kougami noticed something else that made bile rise in his throat. 

The coat fell to the floor with a wet smack. 

Ginoza’s left arm was missing. 

And through the thin shirt, Kougami could see the hint of old injuries. The outline of Ginoza’s bones. He gritted his teeth, growled, “Who did this to you?” 

Ginoza shook his head. Made a strange, strangled sound. 

Kougami took a deep breath. He needed to control his anger. Ginoza didn’t need that right now. And he’d spent the last few years trying to be better about that, about being the person people needed. About being aware of their needs. The person he couldn’t be for Ginoza before. 

He got a towel, came back. Went to take off Ginoza’s shirt, but Ginoza jerked away. 

“Okay,” Kougami said, draping the towel over Ginoza’s shoulders. “Okay.” 

Ginoza clutched the towel tight. 

Kougami stepped back. 

“D-don’t go,” Ginoza rasped. 

Kougami nodded. He sat down next to Ginoza, felt his throat constrict. Was careful not to touch. Not yet. 

“I missed you,” he murmured. 

“Me too,” Ginoza whispered. 

“What happened?” 

Ginoza shuddered. “I-I don’t want to t-t-talk about it. Yet.” He took a deep breath. “S-stay.” 

“I will,” Kougami promised. Ginoza wrapped himself in the towel and curled up on the couch, and Kougami stayed watch through the night. 

*

“I don't think he's going to be up to a lot of prodding. He wouldn't let me take his shirt off and it's still damp.” 

Kougami paced the length of his living room as he waited for Akane to answer, feeling oddly like one of those soldiers stationed to guard a place of importance. Except he was guarding Ginoza, asleep on the couch. Ginoza, who had woken up twice screaming himself raw from nightmares, who'd tried to push Kougami away, who'd looked at Kougami without recognition and with pure terror in his eyes until Kougami managed to talk him down. 

It had been a hard night, and now that Ginoza was out, Kougami took the opportunity to call Akane. Because she knew what to do. This wasn't so personal to her. She hadn't known Ginoza for very long. She'd know how to move forward without emotions muddling everything. 

“I know,” Akane said, “but this is an unclosed case. We have to find out who did this. Also,” she sighed, “he's your friend. He needs help. It's going to be hard, but he can't stay this way forever. He needs treatment. You said he's...missing his arm.” 

“Yeah.” Kougami swallowed, glancing over at Ginoza, whose body was hidden under a blanket, save for his hair. He was turned away. Kougami could almost pretend that this was normal, that Ginoza had decided to stay the night after a long day. That no time had passed between the moment Ginoza went out to explore a lead and now. 

That they'd solved their case. 

Kougami should have been the one to go out that day. Instead, he'd spent years not sure what to do. He'd told himself over and over again that he couldn't mourn if there wasn't a body. That wasn't true. Everyone else had assumed that Ginoza was dead. Kougami had never stopped looking, but he'd become distracted with other cases, with the duties of his job. 

Now he felt he should have looked harder. How long had Ginoza been waiting for a rescue? 

“I'm coming over,” Akane said. “We'll figure out if we should call an ambulance or transport him to the hospital ourselves. Do you know any doctors he might trust?” 

Kougami thought back to when they'd been injured. Both of them, some serious, some not, but there was a doctor at the central city hospital who understood them. Who'd developed a sort of friendly relationship with them both. “Doctor Saiga,” he said. 

“I'll call to see if he's there, or if he can get there,” Akane said. “I'll be there soon.” 

“Thanks.” 

Akane hung up. Kougami decided to sit down on the couch, next to Ginoza, who jerked up at the sudden movement, eyes wide. He relaxed, letting out a shaky breath when he saw it was Kougami. 

“Morning,” Kougami said. 

Ginoza blinked and looked around, taking in the whole of Kougami's living room. Then he returned his gaze to Kougami. 

“Do you want to get changed?” Kougami asked. “You're still damp.” Even his hair, sticking to his face from the rain of the previous night and sweat from his nightmares. Ginoza shook his head. “How about food? Tea?” Again, Ginoza shook his head. 

Kougami was at a loss of what else to offer him. “Is there anything you want?” 

Ginoza lowered his gaze. “I thought it was a dream,” he murmured. 

“Me too,” Kougami admitted. “I thought you'd disappear. But I didn't fall asleep, and you're still here.” 

“I'm still here,” Ginoza repeated. 

“Water,” Kougami said after a moment, when Ginoza didn't look up again. “You should have water. You're probably dehydrated.” 

He didn't wait for a response, sure that he wouldn't get one. He went into the kitchen, filled up a glass and returned to the living room. Ginoza took the glass in his remaining hand, which shook as he raised it to his lips and sipped, slowly. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“No problem.” Kougami hated that every time Ginoza spoke, it was barely loud enough to be heard. Like Ginoza wanted to hide. Like he felt the need to become invisible. 

They stayed in silence, Ginoza slowly drinking the water, Kougami watching him, trying to keep his thoughts from turning to anger. It wouldn't help. It wouldn't help anyone. Then, there was a knock on the door. 

Ginoza flinched and dropped the water, which splashed all over himself. Kougami managed to catch the glass before it hit the floor and set it aside, reaching out to comfort Ginoza. But Ginoza jerked away from him, curling in on himself. 

“It's okay,” Kougami said. “It's a friend. You can trust her.” 

Ginoza didn't respond, and Kougami stood up. “I'll be right back.” 

“N-no!” 

“Ginoza, I promise I'll be back.” He pulled away, sorry for having to do so, but this was necessary. 

Akane stood on the other side of the door. “Saiga is there,” she said. “How is he?” 

“Awake and scared,” Kougami said. “Come on.” 

He led her into the living room, where Ginoza was still hunched over. “Gino,” he prompted, “remember Akane?” 

Akane knelt down in front of the couch. “Hey,” she said gently, offering him a smile. 

Ginoza looked up, slowly, to meet Akane's eyes. 

“I want to help you,” Akane said. 

“Why?” Ginoza asked. 

“Why wouldn't I?” Akane asked. “I don't know what you've been through, but it sounds like you need help. I don't want to ask you questions now. I want to get your injuries checked. You need to heal.” 

“Injuries,” Ginoza suddenly laughed, high-pitched. Kougami winced. “My arm is missing. I'm broken. You should just leave me to rot, where I belong.” 

“Don't say that,” Kougami snapped. 

“Isn't it true?” Ginoza snarled, glaring up at him. “What use am I now? I'm just a burden.” 

“Why did you come to Kougami?” Akane interjected, gently, refocusing his attention back to her. 

“I don't know,” Ginoza admitted. He glanced up at Kougami, then back at Akane. “I-I-” 

Kougami didn't hear what he said next, but he could see how it made Akane's shoulders tense. Then she said, “But you came here. You wanted help, too.” 

“I can't even handle someone knocking on the door,” Ginoza snapped. 

“We can help you,” Akane said. “It'll be hard. Recovery isn't quick or instantaneous, especially not from trauma. But in order for us to do that, we need to take some steps. We need to go to the hospital.” 

“No.” 

“Gino,” Kougami sighed. 

“There's a doctor there who knows you,” Akane said. “According to Kougami. Doctor Saiga?” 

Ginoza nodded after a moment. “I know him.” 

“He can help you.” 

“Th-they'll touch me.” 

“Yes. But not to hurt you.” Akane reached out, halfway to where Ginoza's hand was clutching the blanket. “We don't want to hurt you. Can you trust me?” 

“I don't know you,” Ginoza said. 

“It's a lot to ask,” Akane admitted, “but I'm making you a promise. We aren't going to hurt you.” 

Ginoza swallowed, and slowly, so slowly, reached out for Akane's hand, brushing against it first, then taking it and squeezing. 

Kougami pushed back the pang of jealousy that surfaced. Ginoza hadn't let Kougami touch him. He couldn't fault Ginoza that. He couldn't fault Ginoza anything. Akane had always been better at handling people than he'd been. 

But still, he wished that after all these years, he could have been the one to give Ginoza his first comforting touch. 

*

Saiga met them at the admissions area of the hospital. 

“We have a room prepared,” he said. Ginoza was leaning against Kougami, apparently now trusting him since Akane broke the ice. Or maybe he was too tired to stand on his own to let it bother him. 

A nurse provided a wheelchair and Kougami helped lower Ginoza into it. They followed Saiga and the nurse to the room Ginoza had been assigned, stood off to the side as Saiga helped Ginoza onto the bed. Kougami noticed Ginoza trembling when the nurse or Saiga touched him. 

Saiga drew up Ginoza's medical records on a tablet. He knew that Ginoza had no living relatives. Ginoza and Kougam had both allowed each other to be involved in each others' medical care and information, just in case. It helped, having someone who understood the job and the day-to-day struggles have access to that kind of information. 

And back then, they'd been close. Best friends, but Kougami had thought, before Ginoza disappeared, that when their murder case was over, he'd ask to be more. 

The nurse said, quietly, “We have a hospital gown and trousers for you. I can pull the curtain if you want to get changed in private, but you have to let us know when you're ready.” 

Ginoza nodded. She offered him the soft garments and he took them, and her and Saiga stepped away. The nurse pulled a curtain around the bed, and Saiga came to stand next to Kougami. 

“He's been missing for four years.” 

Kougami nodded. 

“Did he say anything about it?” 

“No,” Kougami said. “He didn't want to talk about it.” 

“Okay.” Saiga sighed. “It might take him some time. While he's here, since visiting hours don't last forever and I'm assuming you and your friend have a job to do-” 

“I could take off,” Kougami said. 

“Visiting hours don't last forever,” Saiga repeated. “We'll have a nurse with him twenty-four-seven, just in case he tries to hurt himself, or has a flashback, or any other psychological and physical complications due to the trauma. Since we don't know the nature of it, we can't leave him alone until he's cleared medically and psychologically.” 

“Right,” Kougami said. 

The curtain moved, and Ginoza pulled it open. The hospital clothes hung on him, made him look sicker. The nurse pulled the curtains all the way back. The clothes Ginoza had been wearing were discarded on a nearby chair. He sat on the bed again, and the nurse took his arm. 

“I'm going to need to put in an IV,” she said. 

“Hold on.” Saiga stepped forward, handed something to her, and said, “I'll do it. Just in case.” 

The nurse nodded. Kougami tensed when he saw Ginoza go pale, staring as Saiga took his right arm and stretched it out, searching for a vein near the crook of his elbow. He wiped a patch of skin down with fluid, and Ginoza took a shuddering breath. 

“This will help you,” Saiga said. “It will hurt momentarily, but it will help. We need to draw blood to see what you need replenished.” 

Ginoza nodded. 

Saiga prepared the needle, attached to a tube, and several vials for Ginoza's blood. 

“You don't have to look,” Kougami said, but Ginoza ignored him, watching as Saiga inserted the large needle under his skin, into the vein. Blood pooled in the chamber before Saiga attached one of the vials, somehow deftly managing to fill it while taping down the IV to Ginoza's arm so that it wouldn't become displaced. He filled four more vials of dark blood before he stopped, then let go of Ginoza's arm. The nurse started sticking labels on each of them. 

Saiga, meanwhile, left the room briefly and came back with a clear bag full of liquid connected to a tube, which Kougami recognized as saline. Ginoza's eyes widened when he saw it. 

“Wh-what's that?” 

“It's a saline solution,” Saiga said, hanging the bag on a pole and setting up the drip. “It'll help keep you hydrated.” 

“Don't,” Ginoza said. Saiga reached for his arm, and he pulled away. 

“Why don't you want me to?” Saiga asked. 

Ginoza shuddered. “Please don't.” 

“It will help you.” 

“No.” His voice suddenly was too loud. Kougami winced. 

“Gino,” he said, stepping forward, “it's okay.” 

“No!” Ginoza jerked away, trying to get to the other side of the bed. 

“Shit,” Kougami hissed, catching him before he fell off. Ginoza struggled in his grip, surprisingly strong, and Kougami almost let go as he twisted and turned. “Gino, stop!” 

Ginoza managed to bring his arm up to elbow Kougami in the face. Kougami did let go, shocked more than pained, ears ringing, and Ginoza lurched forward, past him, only for Saiga to catch him. 

Someone was shouting. Kougami realized it was Ginoza, yelling loud enough for his voice to break, just two words over and over again. “Please, no!” Begging Saiga to stop as Saiga held Ginoza, one hand clutched around Ginoza's wrist, the other arm wrapped around Ginoza's torso. The nurse came up behind Ginoza, where he couldn't see her, and plunged a needle into his upper arm. 

Ginoza screamed. 

The nurse pulled away, and Ginoza sagged against Saiga, breaths coming out like sobs. Or maybe he was sobbing. His cheeks were wet. Kougami's heart thudded too fast as he watched Saiga lower Ginoza onto the bed, attach the drip to Ginoza's IV, and step back. Then he turned to Kougami. 

“I'm sorry,” he said. 

Kougami didn't realize his fists were clenched until he uncurled them. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He glanced from Saiga to the bed, just in time to see Ginoza's eyes shut, tears still tracking down his cheeks. 

“I'm sorry, too.” 

*

They'd been ushered out of the room for the examination, sent to a waiting room on the same floor, which was empty. Only a television played news in the background, a small comfort against the various sounds of machines coming from the halls outside. They were allowed to wait overnight if they didn't want to go home, so they did, not talking much. Akane fell asleep at one point. Kougami had been awake for over twenty-four hours but he couldn't sleep. He thought he might start having the dreams again, the ones where he imagined all of the things that could have hurt Ginoza. 

Akane left and came back with coffee around eight the next morning, which Kougami drank like it was a lifeline. It wouldn't calm him down, but after seeing what he'd seen earlier, he didn't think anything would. 

“Saiga says that reaction indicates that Ginoza might have been drugged against his will,” he told her, staring at the tiled floor. “As if cutting off his arm wasn't bad enough.” 

“Oh,” Akane said. 

“What did he say to you, earlier?” Kougami asked. 

“What?” 

Kougami turned to look at her. “After he said he didn't know why he came back. He said something and you said that he wanted help, too.” 

Akane looked down at her cup. “It's not an easy thing to say. I thought you'd heard it.” 

“No.” 

Akane sighed, faced him again. “He said he'd wanted to die.” 

Kougami felt sick, suddenly. Hot and cold, numb and all too aware of his surroundings at the same time. “What?” 

“But he came to you for help,” Akane added. 

Kougami clutched at his cup. Would that be enough? 

*

Three hours later Saiga came into the waiting room, grim-faced and looking exhausted. Akane left the room so that Saiga could talk about Ginoza's medical details freely. 

Kougami almost stood, but was motioned to sit down again. 

“There were trace elements of various drugs in his system,” Saiga told them. “Some sedatives, some not. A few old badly healed injuries, mostly lacerations, and two broken ribs. The most recent injury was his arm. It wasn't a hack job. The work was strangely precise, but we did remove some tissue and have him fitted for a prosthetic. He's malnourished, as you might have guessed, and is still under sedation. There are a few other things we'd like to discuss with him before they're discussed with you. He did say one thing to me, when he briefly woke up.” 

“What?” 

“'He's dead. You're safe.'” 

Kougami stared at him. 

“I'm assuming Ginoza means that whoever captured him was killed and that is why Ginoza escaped,” Saiga said. “Or, that Ginoza killed the person who captured him in order to escape. Either way, you should launch an investigation. I've wrapped up his clothes, perhaps they can be tested for residues from various parts of the city. I doubt he was held far from your home, if he managed to get there in the state he was in.” 

Kougami nodded. “Thank you. You can give the clothes to Detective Tsunemori.” 

Saiga raised an eyebrow. “Not going after the culprit yourself?” 

“He's dead,” Kougami said. “I want to be here for Gino.” 

Saiga nodded, still looking a bit surprised. “Very well. I'll give the items to Tsunemori and inform you of any updates. You can return to his room, if you'd like.” 

Kougami stood and followed him out. Saiga stopped to talk to Akane, but Kougami continued to Ginoza's room. A nurse stood by the door, nodded as Kougami walked past. 

Ginoza lay on his back, IV still in place, two bags full of different colored liquids feeding into his right arm. Bandages covered his left shoulder, and his chest rose and fell steadily, the sedation giving him something like a peaceful sleep. Kougami sat next to the bed and watched him. Safe. What did Ginoza mean by that? 

He checked his phone, texting Akane to give him updates. He wondered what life would be like once Ginoza was released. Would he want to return to his job? Would he want to still live alone? Would he still want a dog? Was he the same person that way, or had too much changed? 

He heard shifting in the bed next to him and looked up. Ginoza stared back at him, eyes glassy, but unlike the previous times he'd woken up, this time he recognized Kougami. 

“Gino,” Kougami said. 

“Kou?” Barely more than a whisper. 

“What happened?” 

Ginoza stared at him. 

“All of this,” Kougami continued. “You were gone for so long, and I wish I could've saved you from it. You told Akane that you wanted to die.” He saw Ginoza's expression close off, and maybe he'd been too blunt too soon. But he needed to know. “You told Saiga that someone was dead, that someone was safe.” 

Ginoza closed his eyes, looking pained. “I don't remember that.” 

“You woke up briefly.” 

“You're safe.” 

Kougami leaned forward, unable to help himself. “What does that mean?” 

Ginoza tried to move his hand from his side, to rest it on his stomach, perhaps. Or to pull his blanket up. The action was vague, his arm trembled. He gave up, let his hand drop. 

“Th-the man who had me,” Ginoza whispered, “said he wanted you. Punished me, for not giving away your weaknesses. T-tried to drug the answers out of me. C-cut my arm off wh-while I w-watched and f-felt-” He choked on a sob. 

Kougami sucked in a sharp breath. “No.” 

“B-but he got into other p-problems,” Ginoza continued, “and I-I think he was d-distracted. S-started using me as a p-play thing. Th-then, after, I...” He swallowed. “He d-dropped his knife. I-I-” He turned his head away. 

Kougami reached forward, took his hand, held it tight. “It's okay. You did what had to be done.” 

Ginoza didn't say anything, but his hand tensed in Kougami's. 

“And you came back,” Kougami continued. “You're going to heal. Your injuries. Your mind. We can start again. Maybe you can live with me and we can-” 

“No.” So quiet, Kougami wasn't sure he'd heard it. But he stopped talking. 

“What?” 

Ginoza shook his head, harsh, jerking movements. 

“Why not?” 

“I can't.” 

“Gino,” Kougami squeezed his hand tighter, but Ginoza tried to pull it away. Kougami let him, and Ginoza turned, facing away, shoulders trembling. “Gino, what do you mean?” 

“I'm sorry,” Ginoza whispered, voice shaking, “but I can't.” 

“Ginoza-” 

“Please, go.” 

He sounded scared. He sounded like he thought he might have to beg. Kougami stood up. “Can we please talk about this later, at least?” 

Ginoza didn't answer. 

Kougami left, went down the hall to the empty waiting room. His phone didn't ring. A nurse didn't come by telling him that Ginoza had changed his mind, that he wanted Kougami there by his side. He waited, and waited. 

Then Saiga appeared. 

Kougami stood up. “Does Gino want to see me?” 

Saiga shook his head. “Ginoza has requested a change in his documentation. You're no longer listed as someone who can be involved in his medical affairs.” 

“What?” Kougami sank into the nearest chair. “Who is, then? He had no one before.” 

“I'm not at liberty to say,” Saiga said, “but he does have someone.” 

“Do you know why?” Kougami asked. 

“He didn't give an exact explanation,” Saiga said. 

“But do you think you know why?” Kougami insisted. “You're a smart man. You can probably guess.” 

“So can you.” 

“We were everything to each other before he disappeared,” Kougami said, “so no, I can't. I don't understand.” 

Saiga sat down next to him. “He told me what he said he told you, in the hopes that it would help his treatment. Then he requested the change. He asked if you were still here. I told him that I thought you were.” 

“But he doesn't want to see me,” Kougami said. 

“He said that it's hard to see you,” Saiga said. “He said that he knows you're his friend, that he's glad you're safe, but it's hard to see you. I can guess why. So can you.” He stood up. “I have rounds to make. You should head home and rest, too.” 

Kougami watched him leave, but he couldn't move. He could see why, if he tried. He could. 

But he didn't want to. That would make it a reality, that Ginoza couldn't deal with him. That someone had taken Ginoza away from him, and even though Ginoza was back, he wasn't really. Not the Ginoza he knew. Not the Ginoza who would have loved him. 

Kougami could never be prepared for that loss.


	2. Chapter 2

“ _Tell me about Kougami Shinya, and I will make the pain go away.”_

_Each demand amounts to the same thing. Long fingered cold hands wrap themselves around Ginoza's neck, almost like a caress if he couldn't feel his pulse thudding against his skin, sluggish and labored. As those same hands touch different parts of his body, maneuver him into different positions. Take a finger, break a finger._

_He can't even control himself. His body is putty, made compliant by too many drugs, and he can only do two things._

_He can feel pain. And he can refuse._

_He denies Makishima every time._

_And every time, Makishima breaks a bone, slices his disappointment into Ginoza's skin._

_And he has fun._

“ _I'm not angry,” he says, his voice smooth, silky. Ginoza can see how he would convince others to follow him. “I want to see what your limits are. How far you are willing to go for a man who won't even come looking.”_

_His left hand is swollen, a mess of broken bones. Lacerations on his chest sluggishly bleed a morbid picture on his white shirt, provided by Makishima as a canvas more than to give Ginoza any modesty. The drugs must be doing damage that he can't see; his head feels strange. He feels strange. Not detached from feeling, but detached from movement, from action. Sometimes, he feels sick._

_He doesn't want to find his limit. He wants Kougami to find him first._

*

“Ginoza-san!”

His surroundings seemed to slam into place all at once. The hospital room, the hospital bed, the IV in his remaining arm, Akane sitting next to him, holding his hand. He was gripping hers too tight.

“Nightmare,” he said.

Akane shook her head. “You weren't asleep.”

They'd said this would happen. The psychiatrists who visited him. His body was healing, but his mind was another matter entirely. They were sending him upstairs, to the psychiatric unit for further care.

Akane couldn't follow him there.

He found her presence oddly comforting, even though he hadn't known her well before he'd been taken. He actually couldn't remember much of their time together. He wanted to ask, but at the same time he was afraid. What he remembered of himself was stress, sharpness, and frustration. He couldn't remember who that was directed towards. If it was towards himself, towards Kougami, or towards her.

“They said they'll be here in half an hour to take you up,” Akane said.

Ginoza nodded. A nurse came in and told him that she was going to remove his IV. Everything, from drugs to nutrients, had been given to him through that thing, and he was relieved that it was coming out. He couldn't trust the bags hung on the pole next to his bed. He tried. Akane told him that it was okay, and that was the only thing that stopped him from trying to take out the IV. It would have been nearly impossible, anyway, without his other hand.

They talked of fitting him with a prosthetic, but it wouldn't give him nearly as much mobility as actually having his arm.

He watched as the nurse slid the IV out from under his skin, placed a ball of cotton over the puncture wound, bruised now, and secured it to his skin with tape. He didn't look up as the nurse walked away.

Akane placed a bundle on his bed. Ginoza looked up at her.

“Clothes,” she said. “I made sure they don't have any ties. They don't allow those upstairs.”

“Ties,” Ginoza repeated.

Akane's mouth twitched, then she nodded. Ginoza took the clothes, slowly stood. He felt dizzy, but that was from a lack of eating, probably.

He changed in the bathroom, dropping his shirt twice. Akane had given him things that were easy to slip on, and still he struggled. He felt his face grow hot at what little he could do. He used to be able to shoot a gun with remarkable accuracy. Now he could barely put on sweatpants.

A knock on the door startled him and he nearly fell into the sink. “They're here,” Akane's voice said, and he took several deep breaths. Opened the door to find her standing there. “Just outside.”

Ginoza swallowed. “I don't want to go,” he murmured.

“I know. But hopefully you won't be there long.”

“I can't do this.”

She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You can do this. Come on.” She took his hand, and led him out of the bathroom.

A nurse stood with a wheelchair. Ginoza sank into it, and Akane squeezed his hand once before letting go.

“I'll visit,” she promised.

Ginoza nodded, his throat too tight to speak. Then the nurse pulled him away, down the hall, and into an elevator.

As soon as the doors opened to the psych ward, Ginoza felt cold.

*

“ _I don't understand why you won't let me do this. I'm perfectly capable of handling myself.”_

“ _Because you're young, Tsunemori. You're inexperienced. You've already nearly lost two officers under your command-”_

“ _Our command-”_

“ _Because you allowed them to be irresponsible.”_

“ _They can make their own choices.”_

“ _I'm making mine. You're off the case.”_

“ _Not fair.”_

“ _I don't need this to get screwed up because of your inexperience.”_

“ _Inspector Ginoza, I am perfectly qualified-”_

“ _End of discussion.”_

*

The pills in the clear medicine cup were small.

Makishima hadn't used pills. Ginoza closed his eyes, tried to remember what Makishima had done. It wasn't pills. These pills were safe. Makishima had used injections. That's why the IV was a problem.

His hand shook.

“I can't leave you alone until you swallow them,” the nurse said. There were so many nurses, all watching him, all waiting for him to fall apart.

No, they were helping him.

They wanted a piece of him.

They didn't. They wanted him to get better.

His hand shook harder, jostling the two pills in the cup. Only two. Two small pills.

Pathetic.

“Ginoza-san,” the nurse warned. Faceless nurses, following him around. Too many to remember properly. Or maybe it wasn't the nurse standing behind him.

“What are these?” Ginoza managed. Makishima would never give him an explanation.

The nurse did. “One to stabilize your mood long term, the other to help you sleep.”

Ginoza's hand stopped shaking. Sleep sounded nice. “I want to sleep,” he said.

Forever.

No, he wanted to wake up in the morning.

He'd told himself to keep waking up. That he would keep waking up, even if it was only to wake up to the nightmare that Makishima had created for him. He was so tired now. It would be nice not to.

No, because this was a better place to wake up in. He wasn't waking up to a nightmare.

His chest felt tight. He raised the cup, slightly. Makishima wouldn't have given him the choice. He didn't have a choice here, either, but he was holding the cup. Akane wasn't here to tell him it was safe, but the nurse could be trusted.

His face felt hot.

He jerked his hand up, forcing the cup to his mouth, the pills in, choking them down. He felt them stick in his throat, and the nurse handed him a cup of water, took the cup the pills had been in, and Ginoza felt like he wanted to throw up as soon as he took a mouthful and swallowed. He dropped the cup, clapped his hand over his mouth. The nurse placed a hand on his shoulder and he jerked away.

His stomach lurched. He shook, tears springing to his eyes. For a moment he truly thought he would be sick.

Then a strange wave of calm washed over him, and he lowered his hand.

“Let's get you to your room,” the nurse said.

Ginoza didn't remember the short walk to his bed. He only remembered falling.

*

_The needle slips into his skin, then slips out, and Ginoza's arms sting from too many injections, too many chemicals. His head spins as Makishima steps back._

_There's a strange gentleness to the way Makishima administers the drugs each time. He doesn't stab the needle into Ginoza's throat or arm, or anywhere that he pleases. Ginoza is chained, so it wouldn't be hard. But he merely takes Ginoza's hand, stretches out his arm, whichever one he feels like using, and wipes the skin clean. Then the needle goes in._

_The puncture isn't what hurts. The drugs do._

_Already Ginoza's head is pounding. They all have different effects. Makishima's face is distorted, melting, inhumane. He isn't human, but Ginoza wants to reach out and touch him, just to make sure that what he's seeing isn't real. It can't be. Makishima looks like a watercolor painting falling apart after being submerged._

_His stomach heaves, and he retches. There shouldn't be anything to bring up, but there's blood on the floor._

“ _You've made a mess,” Makishima says, but the words are fragmented, and Ginoza can't understand the meaning behind them. He retches again, and this time when Makishima speaks, it only sounds as if its from far away._

_Makishima isn't far away. His cool hands push Ginoza's hair away from his forehead, caress Ginoza's cheek. Ginoza closes his eyes._

“ _I can stop this. Tell me about Kougami Shinya.”_

_The same words. They barely mean anything anymore._

_Does Kougami mean anything, anymore?_

*

He jerked up, trying to push himself off the pillow, gasping for air in the bright room. He managed to scramble into a sitting position, hand clutching at his blanket, and pressed himself against the wall. Makishima would come soon, if he hadn't already.

The brightness of the room became less bright, and Ginoza could see another bed across from him. Bed. Not floor. One arm, wrist unchained. Blanket. Sweatpants and a sweatshirt. His breathing, harsh and unsteady, started to slow.

Hospital.

The door opened, a nurse came in. “You nearly missed breakfast. How are you feeling? You look pale.”

Ginoza didn't know what to say.

“Wash up and come get your breakfast before the doctor sees you.”

Ginoza unfolded himself, stood up on legs that barely wanted to hold him, and went into the bathroom, went through the motions of brushing his teeth, fixing his hair. He didn't look in the mirror. He thought if he did, he might smash the glass and push one of the shards into his skin.

Then he walked into the hallway. The nurse was waiting.

He barely ate. He wasn't hungry. Everyone wanted to talk. People who were ghosts of themselves, doctors who weren't, nurses who drifted among the patients, everyone wanted to talk. Everyone asked questions.

The therapist wanted to talk about Makishima.

A nurse wanted to talk about Kougami.

The patients wanted to know why he was there.

Later, Akane appeared in the dining area, and Ginoza asked, “Why are you here? Why would you come here?”

“I want to make sure you're okay,” Akane said.

“Why do you care?”

“I do.”

Ginoza looked away from her. “You shouldn't have to deal with this.”

“It's hard for you to be with the person you know the best,” Akane said, “and you can't do this alone.”

“We hardly know each other.”

“You trusted me with this,” Akane pointed out.

Ginoza closed his eyes. He did. “You were kind.” He opened his eyes, stared at his hand, resting on the table. A bracelet around his thin wrist tagged him as a patient. “How is he?”

“Worried,” Akane said. “Trying to understand.”

“I don't understand.”

“Which is fine.”

“This wasn't supposed to happen. It's him. He made Kougami into—into—into,” Ginoza's teeth clicked together, he started to shake. Akane lay her hand over his. “Into a nightmare.”

“And now we're going to help you fix that.”

“Kougami didn't do anything,” Ginoza snapped. “I'm just pathetic.”

“You're not pathetic.”

“I can't even swallow pills without freaking out.”

“You'll get better. I have faith in you.”

Ginoza raised his eyes to meet hers, saw her belief written in her smile. And he wished that back when they'd worked together, he'd had more faith in her.

He didn't deserve her.

And yet she stayed. Held his hand. Told him that it would be okay.

Made him start to believe her.

*

“ _True pain is the pain of betrayal.”_

_Ginoza tries not to listen, but his head is clearer than it has been in days. Because Makishima wants him to hear this, to understand it, to remember._

“ _You don't want to betray your friend. I understand. But he has already betrayed you. How long has it been since I took you? He's given up on you. No one is coming. You are alone.”_

_No._

“ _You are alone.”_

*

The more he talked, the more he could separate the past and the present. Then and now. He talked because he felt like his words were in safe hands. Like they wouldn't destroy anyone.

With Makishima, his words weren't safe.

Somehow, the words became easier with the therapists. But he didn't know them.

They were easier with Akane.

She came to visit him, and before he went to see her he looked in the mirror. Too pale, too thin, his hair too long. He fixed his hair with his remaining hand as best he could, and didn't want to smash the mirror to pieces.

He sat down and told her, “I want to go home.”

“They sounded optimistic,” Akane said. “They still feel like you're holding back. You shouldn't hold anything back.”

Ginoza felt his throat stick. It did that often. Not when he swallowed the pills, not anymore, but with words. Not most words, but some words.

“You don't have to say now,” Akane said. “Just, when you're ready.”

“It's ugly,” Ginoza choked.

Akane looked him in the eye. “I don't care if it is.”

*

_Ginoza's head is clear. This might be a nightmare. This might be reality. But his head his clear and one of his arms is free and Makishima straddles him, trapping him on the ground._

_He's too weak to move, anyway. He hasn't eaten, hasn't slept, still sick from the drugs. He can't move, and Makishima fingers a knife above him, grinning impossibly wide, showing his teeth._

“ _How much is he worth to you?” Makishima asks._

_Ginoza grits his teeth, tenses, preparing for whatever will come next. He doesn't say a word._

“ _Fine. Then you can ponder on this while I have some fun.” He leans forward, the hand not holding the knife grasping the wrist of Ginoza's unchained left arm and pinning it to the floor. He brings the knife to Ginoza's skin, near the shoulder. “How much are you worth to him?”_

_Nothing._

_Ginoza tries to banish the thought, the knee-jerk answer. It comes from being in captivity. It comes from being hurt. It comes from not knowing the time of day or where he is. It doesn't come from the truth._

_He doesn't get to tell himself any of this, because Makishima drags the knife across his arm._

_Again. And again. And again._

_Ginoza tries not to scream as each time the knife cuts deeper, as he feels his own blood spilling onto the floor and soaking through his shirt, into his hair._

_Makishima reaches bone. Drives the knife in. The bone splinters, and Ginoza screams, doesn't hear the crack, can barely hear Makishima's laughter, and the bone keeps breaking apart, more and more and more, sending white hot pain through Ginoza's body, until there is nothing but the pain. He writhes under Makishima, but he can't get away from the pain, can't get away from what Makishima is taking from him._

_He keeps screaming until his throat bleeds, and Makishima laughs, and even when his arm is lying on the other side of his cell, no one comes for him._

_Because he is nothing._

*

“It doesn't matter what the truth is. He put it in my head.”

“It will take time.”

“It hurts to think about him.”

“Then I'll make sure you have the time you need until that isn't true anymore.”

Ginoza stared at Akane from across the table. “Do you think that can happen?”

“I think so.”

*

A manila folder bulged with papers. Discharge papers. Terms of Ginoza's release. Continued therapy, continued medication.

“I have a surprise for you,” Akane told him once they were in the car. Ginoza leaned his head against the window, closed his eyes.

They arrived at his apartment ten minutes later.

Akane opened the door for him, and he stepped inside.

And was cut off by a medium-sized dog.

The dog looked like a cross between a wolf and a husky. Ginoza stared at it. The dog stared back up at him.

“What's this?”

“I heard that you love dogs,” Akane said, “and I talked to your doctors about it. This puppy has been trained as a service dog. Therapy dog. But he's also your pet. I figured you might not want to be alone.”

Ginoza stared at the dog, shocked. “He looks like the dog I had as a child.”

“Oh?” Akane didn't sound surprised.

“Does he have a name?”

“That's up to you. If you want to keep him.

Ginoza knelt down, and the dog padded up to him, rested its head on Ginoza's knee. Ginoza reached up to scratch the dog's ears, and felt somehow calmer for doing so.

He felt like he would be okay.

His eyes burned as he stood up. “I can't believe you've done so much for me. I don't-”

“Don't you dare say you don't deserve it,” Akane cut him off, grabbing his hand. “Don't you dare.”

Ginoza swallowed. “Thank you.”

Akane offered him a smile.

She'd offered him so much more.

*

“How is he?”

He thought about Kougami, a lot. He thought less about the question Makishima asked of him. He still thought about it. But he thought about other things, too.

He thought about other things enough to ask.

“He asks about you a lot,” Akane said. “He tries to help when he can.”

“What?”

“Who do you think suggested Dime?” Akane asked.

His dog, the one currently resting his head in Ginoza's lap. Akane hadn't known that he loved dogs.

“Oh.”

He wasn't whole. Maybe he never would be. His prosthetic arm didn't move like his real one. It was clunky, clumsy, and he kept it covered as often as possible, tried not to use it if he could help it. One day, he would be able to accept it as part of himself. Just like he might be able to accept Kougami again.

He couldn't avoid the things that hurt him forever.

“Do you want to see him?” Akane asked.

“Not yet.”

Ginoza wrapped his arms around himself, and Akane leaned against him, warm.

One day at a time. One thing at a time. One wound at a time.

*

Ginoza stood next to a park bench, clutching Dime's leash. He felt small in the snow-covered field, wrapped in a dark coat, shivering from the biting cold.

He turned to look down the path, the direction he'd come from, and saw a familiar figure trudging towards him, braced against the wind. He shivered harder. He could run. He could leave whenever he wanted. He wasn't trapped.

He stayed.

Kougami came closer, and offered him a cautious smile.

It had been a long time, but Ginoza managed to look Kougami in the eye even as his hand tightened around Dime's leash.

One day at a time.

It was time.


End file.
